


Forever, Whatever

by nomsie500



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Alcoholism, Betrayal, Character Death, Deceit is Cynthia, Deception, Faked Death, Graphic Violence, Logan is British, Logan is Owen, M/M, Patton is Barb, Picani is Susan, Remus is von Nazi, Roman is Curt Mega, Spies Are Forever AU, Swearing, Virgil is Russian, Virgil is Tatiana, fem!Virgil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2019-11-08 04:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17974757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomsie500/pseuds/nomsie500
Summary: Roman Mega is an agent with the CIA. Was an agent with the CIA. He wasn't quite sure anymore. Roman needs to get his life back together, but the loss of his former partner, Logan Carvour weighs heavily on him. Roman's been given the opportunity to turn his life around and be a spy again, but will he be able to complete this mission?AKA, the Spies Are Forever AU nobody asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently this is a thing that I do now, write random AUs for random things that no one knew they wanted or needed. That's just as well. I hope you enjoy this retelling! I don't own the characters or the story, the credits all go to Thomas Sanders, the Tin Can Bros, and Talkfine.

Russian Weapons Facility—1957

Roman Mega currently found himself in a bit of a predicament. He was supposed to get the nuclear weapon blueprints and leave without any incident, but he had been caught and was currently tied to a chair. His interrogator would not let up, but luckily for Roman, he knew exactly what to do in these sorts of situations. The fact that he ended up in this position a lot was inconsequential. 

“Are you ready to talk?” Roman’s interrogator asked, circling the chair.

“Why would I want to do that?” Roman responded, giving the man a defiant look.

“Maybe this will help,” the interrogator said, motioning for his crony to come over.

The crony approached the chair, flexing his fingers in anticipation. 

“Which little piggy should I snap off first?” the crony asked, his voice so very oily and so very Russian.

“How about this one?” Roman responded, snapping two of the crony’s fingers. “Looks like he won’t be going to market today.”

“So defiant, so calm. You know I could kill you at any moment, right?” the interrogator asked.

Roman laughed. “As if. Either way, I’m not telling you anything.”

“Take out his balls,” the interrogator commanded. The crony came over to the chair with a crow bar in his hands and tried to whack Roman in between his legs. Roman made sure he missed and hit the chair instead, causing the crow bar to come back and hit the crony instead. The crony curled up in a ball on the floor, groaning.

“Well well well, if traditional methods won’t work, I suppose I’ll have to try this,” the interrogator stated, pulling a feather out of his coat and then attacking Roman’s neck.

Roman immediately started squirming and laughing. “Fine! I’m an agent with the American Secret Service!” 

“What is your business here, agent?” the interrogator asked, immediately going back to tickling Roman’s neck.

“I’m here for the nuclear weapon blueprints!” Roman exclaimed, trying to get his breath back as the interrogator let up on the tickling.

“How did you know I was ticklish behind my neck and ears? You don’t even know who I am,” Roman said, very confused.

“Personal history has its benefits, Mega,” the interrogator responded. He then proceeded to shoot the crony’s knees and rip off the mustache he was wearing.

Roman grinned. “Logan Carvour, I should’ve known. Your accent is horrible.”

“Better than anything you could come up with. Besides, it fooled all of the workers and agents in the facility,” Logan said, releasing Roman from the chair.

The crony was staring at the duo in disbelief. Logan and Roman looked down at him, twin smirks gracing their faces.

“Don’t you worry, love. We’ll let you live, which is much more than what’s going to happen to most of the people in this building. Consider yourself lucky,” Logan said. 

Roman flashed Logan a smile. “Where did you leave the blueprints?”

“They’re on the table. Come on, we don’t have much time,” Logan replied, handing Roman a pistol.

Roman collected the pistol and the blueprints and the two agents left the room. As they were exiting the facility, Roman’s boss, Desmond Houston, called him through his watch.

“Mega! Where the hell are you? I need those nuclear weapon blueprints now!” Desmond demanded, agitation prominent in his voice.

“Don’t worry, Desmond, we have them right here,” Logan responded.

“Logan! Thank God, some sense. M16 didn’t tell me you’d be on this mission,” Desmond said.

Logan shot a facility worker at the end of the hallway. “It’s not called the secret service for no reason.”

“You’re more than welcome to come join the American force anytime you wish, Logan,” Desmond offered, hoping that Logan would take him up on his offer but knowing that he wouldn’t. This exchange was common between the two men.

“I believe that is called treason, but I’m more than happy to help Mega at any time,” Logan responded. Roman got out a quick goodbye before another call came through.

“Patton! What do you have for me today?” Roman asked, hoping to use a cool gadget.

“It would be greatly appreciated if you sent me a picture of the blueprints through your watch so the agency can have a digital copy,” Patton explained.

“That sounds like a snoozefest. Got anything else?” Roman replied.

Patton sighed. Roman could be really arrogant and stubborn sometimes. “Are you wearing the brown shoes I gave you? There are rocket boosters in the heels.”

“They didn’t match my outfit,” Roman responded, pulling out a banana and beginning to eat.

“You say you want cool gadgets and then you don’t use them? What am I supposed to do with that, Roman?!” Patton exclaimed, clearly exasperated.

“Make things in black. Now if you’ll excuse me, Logan and I have a building to blow up,” Roman said.

“Fine. Be safe, agents,” Patton responded before ending the call.

Roman and Logan continued to the center of the building so they could set up a bomb. Roman finished the banana he was eating on the way and went to leave the peel on the floor. Logan gave him a disapproving look. Roman shrugged his shoulders and pointed out that the building was going to be trashed in a few minutes. Logan rolled his eyes but decided to let it go and they continued to the center of the building.

Logan was making sure everything was connected while Roman fiddled with the timer. 

“Remember last spring when we were in Berlin?” Roman asked.

“Yes, what about it?” Logan responded, looking over at Roman.

“It took us six minutes last time. What do say about beating that time?” Roman said, giving Logan a wicked grin.

“I don’t like that look in your eyes, are you suggesting five minutes? Four?” Logan said, double checking that everything was in place.

“You know you love it. How about three?” Roman said, setting the timer.

Just as everything was put into place, the room was flooded by Russian agents. Logan and Roman figured their best chance was to book it out of the facility.

“Roman, what are you doing? We have to get out of here!” Logan exclaimed. Roman pushed the last button and then they were off.

“I swear to God, Mega, you are going to be the death me,” Logan said, giving Roman a fond smile.

Roman smirked back at him, about to respond when Logan slipped on the banana peel he left on the stairwell earlier. Logan was launched into the air and careened into the blackness of the lower levels of the facility. Roman looked down into the area that Logan disappeared into, but he couldn’t see his partner. Unfortunately for Roman, the Russians were hot on his heels and the building was going to blow up in a minute and a half. Roman had no choice but to leave his best friend for dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Budapest—1961

Roman had no idea why, but for some reason, after four years, he decided to try again. In that time, he had become a shadow of his former self, the death of his friend and partner hitting him hard. Roman knew he let Logan down by letting him die, and he couldn’t shake the grief and guilt that came with that thought.

Roman had spent the past four years in isolation, trying to put himself to rights but he just couldn’t. About a week ago, Roman looked at himself in the mirror and saw the man he had become and decided he needed to get back on track. He called Desmond and had to beg for a second chance. Eventually, Desmond gave in because as much as he hated the way Roman did things, he was the CIA’s best agent and if he was ready to come back and Desmond didn’t let him, his own boss would have his head.

The next thing Roman knew, he was jetted off to Budapest and found himself in a grimy little restaurant, trying to find his informant and failing miserably. Roman used to be able to find his informants with ease, now it seemed like this man might not even be here. He knew that he was rusty, but this was a terrible way to start his first mission back.

Luckily for Roman, his informant was able to find him and understood the code phrases Roman had been given.

“One whiskey on the rocks, with an extra garnish,” the informant said, sticking a whole pistol into the glass in the middle of the restaurant.

Roman gave him a disbelieving look and quickly shoved the gun into his coat. “Do you have no tact? We’re in public!” Roman said, so far not impressed with his informant.

“So what? It’s not like they have any idea what’s going on. Your menu, sir,” the informant responded.

Roman opened the menu and all of the documents related to the mission spilled out. Roman hissed in frustration as he tried to collect them all. When the documents were all put messily back into the menu, Roman glared at him.

“Seriously? You have to be the worst informant I have ever worked with,” Roman said, exasperation clear in his voice.

“At least my record is completely clean, unlike you, Mega. Everyone has heard about your partner who mysteriously disappeared,” the informant retorted, a knowing smirk playing on his features.

Roman’s glare intensified. “You’ve been gone for four years, agent, that’s more than enough time for rumors to spread,” the informant said.

“You’re still the worst informant I’ve ever worked with,” Roman stated, turning away from the man.

“And you’re the most arrogant agent. By the way, there’s a secret note for from Desmond in the salt shaker. Good day, agent,” the informant said before walking away.

Roman glared at his retreating figure for a moment before relaxing. He knew he probably wasn’t ready to do this again, but he also figured if not now, when? He’d done nothing but wallow in his sorrows and then drink them away for the past four years, he needed to take some constructive steps toward moving forward. 

There was also the fact that he missed being a spy. Roman got to do so many cool things such as use fancy gadgets, travel the world, and fight crime. It was literally the best job ever, how could he not miss it? The other part of coming back is he thought about what Logan would want him to do. He probably wouldn’t want Roman to stew in grief forever, he’d want Roman to get his shit together and go back to saving the world. He’d probably also want Roman to shave off the beard he’d been growing over the past four years, but Roman liked it and wouldn’t get rid of it unless forced.

Roman picked up the salt shaker and pulled out the note.

“Don’t fuck it up or I’ll kill you myself.   
xoxo ~ Desmond”

Roman huffed a laugh at that. At least Desmond hadn’t changed. It was nice to know that some things stayed the same in the terrible, cruel world they all lived in. 

Roman desperately wanted to finish the drink that his informant had given him, but he knew if he started, he wouldn’t stop until he blacked out and pushed away all the bad feelings. He sighed and pushed himself to stand. Might as well get this over with.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. So basically my semester at college really got going and I got really busy. I forgot I had started this with the intention of finishing it. Even though I haven't accomplished that, I have an update!! I'm so sorry it took so long to get out, but I hope you enjoy it!! I'll hopefully be posting on a more regular basis, we'll see what happens.

Undisclosed Location

The Deadliest Man Alive and his associates were waiting patiently in an abandoned alley for their guy to come. He was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago and there was still no sign of him. Deadliest Man’s associates were getting impatient, but he knew that Sergio would be there. Sure enough, he entered the alley in a flustered bluster not even a minute later.

“So sorry I’m late, guys. Today has been a nightmare and I had to stop by my wife’s favorite bakery before it closed. It’s my anniversary today so I would be dead if I came home empty handed,” Sergio explained, organizing all of his stuff.

Deadliest Man regarded Sergio with indifference, but one of the associates decided to take this moment to be intimidating. “You better get on with it or your wife won’t ever see you again.”

“Relax, Sergio has everything in order. Don’t you, Sergio?” Deadliest Man asked, smirking at him.

“Of course, of course. After all, these bombs ain’t gonna sell themselves. Besides, if I didn’t have the bomb, how would I provide for my family? I’m a family man you know, this is only a job for me. That reminds me, could you do me a favor? My nephew won’t believe that I worked with the Deadliest Man Alive if I don’t have proof. Would you sign this?” Sergio asked, holding out a small notebook.

Deadliest Man just stared at him for a moment. “You know what? Sure, I’ll do it. It’s nice to get some recognition every once and a while. I mean, I love killing people and making them suffer, but knowing that it means something to people feels good, you know?”

“Oh, definitely,” Sergio replied.

The associates regarded the men with annoyance. “You know, my kill count is basically the same as his. Why does he get all the glory and we’re just the associates?”

“He’s killed one more person than you, you realize that, right?” stated the second associate.

The first associate’s response was to stab the second one in the chest and leave him on the ground to bleed out. He smiled at his work and sauntered over to Sergio and Deadliest Man.

“Now you’re talking to the Deadliest Men Alive. How would your nephew like that?” the associate asked, slinging an arm around Deadliest Man.

Deadliest Man’s smile turned into a frown as he turned around and stabbed the associate in the neck with his pen. Blood gushed from the wound and quickly spread around the body.

Sergio just stared. “Woah.”

“My name has to mean something, doesn’t it?” Deadliest Man replied. “Now, the bomb.”

“Yes, yes. This is how it works,” Sergio said.

As the two men talked, Roman watched from the top of a building. He knew he had to get down into the alley without being detected so he could have the element of surprise. There was a fire escape on the side of the building that let out into a shadowy area. Perfect.

Just as Roman was about to climb down the fire escape, he saw movement on the building across from him. It looked like a woman was climbing down a ladder. 

‘Shit!’ Roman thought to himself, practically running down the fire escape to beat the woman there. 

The mystery woman got there first. “Freeze! Drop the bomb and nobody gets hurt,” she commanded, Russian accent ringing out as clear as day.

‘Shit, shit, SHIT!’ Roman thought to himself. He had to act now but there was no good way of inserting himself into the situation. He supposed he’d just have to take the plunge.

“Yeah, what she said,” Roman responded, pointing his gun at the criminals.

“Hey, hey, hey, just calm down. As long as you don’t touch my baked goods, everything will be fine,” Sergio said, putting his hands in the air. Then he noticed who he was speaking to. “Agent Roman Mega! It’s really you man! Hey, could I have you sign something for me? My nephew-"

Deadliest Man rolled his eyes and charged at Roman. “We don’t have time for this,” he said before shooting Roman’s pistol in various directions. He snatched it from Roman’s hand and went to shoot him, but he had used up all the bullets. Deadliest Man yelled in frustration and took off, leaving Sergio with a bomb and two spies.

“Hey! Where are you going, man? We had business!” Sergio shouted, clearly annoyed. 

Roman picked his pistol back up, trying to think quickly. He needed to get rid of the bomb dealer, but how?

Roman grabbed the baked goods and held them at gun point. Sergio let out a pained cry. “Please don’t do it, man! My wife will kill me if I come home without those.”

“Leave the bomb here,” Roman commanded. Sergio gave him a skeptical look but Roman gestured to the baked goods. 

Sergio groaned. “Fine! Just give me the box.” Roman threw the box to Sergio. He shot Roman a grateful look before taking off down the alleyway, hoping to get away before either of the spies changed their minds.

Roman and the Russian spy went to grab the bomb at the same time. They glared at each other.

“I better be getting this back to my superiors. It’s kind of important, you know?” Roman said, pulling the bomb towards him.

“No, I think I need it more than you do,” the spy replied, pulling the bomb away from Roman.

“I’m not fooling around,” Roman stated.

“What makes you think I am?” the spy said, giving Roman a cocky smirk.

Roman huffed. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but I need to get going so why don’t you just let me have the bomb?” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” the spy responded, kneeing Roman in the crotch and taking off with the bomb. 

“God damn it!” Roman exclaimed. He looked down at the little slip of paper he was able to snag off the Russian spy. Richmond’s Casino in Monte Carlo. At least he knew where his friend would be heading off to next. Maybe Roman could snag the bomb off her before she turned it in to her boss. He sure hoped so, Desmond was going to be mad at him as it is, he didn’t need to make it worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sergio was taken straight from the musical. I'm only worrying about the major characters, although I'm not sure who I want to be Susan and Baron von Nazi. Thank you for reading this!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said that I would try to update more often and that it's been a month... I'm hoping to actually keep to that promise now since I'm done with my semester and I finished my other multi chapter fic. Anyway, here's another chapter. I hope you enjoy it!!!

CIA Headquarters 

Roman walked into Desmond’s office to see him on the phone with someone, laughing and joking around. Desmond gave Roman a murderous glare.

“Sit down, you’re fucking dead!” he whispered.

Roman sat down quickly and watched Desmond do a JFK impression.

“I thought you’d like that one. Yeah, I’m pretty good with impressions. Remember, don’t let the American people think you’re a crook. You won’t get anywhere if they think the worst of you. Okay, goodbye Vice President Nixon,” Desmond said as he hung up the phone.

Desmond turned to look at Roman, sizing him up in a way that he hadn’t done in a really long time. It made Roman uncomfortable. 

“You read my instructions, right? I believe they said, ‘Don’t fuck it up or I’ll kill you myself ~xoxo.’ So, I’d like you to explain what the fuck happened that you weren’t able to follow those instructions and how the bomb ended up in the hands of a Russian spy?” Desmond said, giving Roman an unimpressed look.

“Sometimes things just happen?” Roman replied. 

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say. You can’t even complete a simple task anymore. What on earth am I supposed to do with an agent that can’t execute a simple retrieval mission? 

Roman went to reply, but Desmond shook his head. 

“You know what, don’t answer that. At least we know who has the bomb, and we’re really lucky the Deadliest Man Alive doesn’t have it,” Desmond said, leading Roman over to a projector.

“What would a guy have to do to earn that title?” Roman asked.

Desmond gave him an unimpressed look as he turned on the projector. “He killed all of these people in cold blood. He also tends to be wherever there’s trouble to be found, so we’re lucky you didn’t fuck up too badly. Coffee? There is a right answer.”

Roman panicked for a moment. He really didn’t want to give the wrong answer, but he couldn’t decide what the right one was either, so he just blurted out “Yes, no, maybe? I don’t know,” before he really thought about what he was saying.

Desmond sighed. “The right answer was picking one and sticking to it.”

Desmond pushed the intercom button, “Picani, we’ll take our late morning coffee now." He turned back to Roman. "If you can’t do the simple things anymore, how are you supposed to-”

Desmond was cut off by a man grabbing him from behind, seemingly trying to hurt him. Roman froze up, knowing what he was supposed to do but he couldn’t make his body do it. Turns out it was a drill and that he failed. Desmond sighed again.

“You know, Mega, our line of work has gotten infinitely more dangerous since you’ve been gone. You’re going to need to work harder than ever just to stay alive, not to mention executing your missions correctly. Seriously, why the early retirement?”

“It was a grieving period,” Roman said, desperately trying to defend himself.

“Yeah, sure. We all grieved, Mega. When I got the call that Logan died and you didn’t, I screamed into Picani’s neck for fifteen seconds and then I locked it down. You on the other hand drank yourself to rock bottom and grew this, this fucking thing!” Desmond said, making little pulling motions at Roman’s beard.

“You mean the beard?” Roman asked.

“Yes, the fucking BEARD! You’re lucky I even let you come back. Would you like a bourbon?” Desmond asked, a note of fake sweetness in his tone.

The bourbon was pushed into Roman’s hands before he could say yes or no, and even though Roman knew he probably shouldn’t, he drank it anyway.

“As you know, the World Peace Conference is happening in Geneva this week, and it’s the coming out party for the Democratic Republic of Prussianslovakia, and an American alliance with them would really rock the Russians. Of course, since the Russians have that bomb, they have the upper hand which makes my job that much harder. By the way, that is poisoned,” Desmond said off handedly.

Roman began to choke as he felt his airways close.

“Anyway, it hopefully shouldn’t be too hard to convince the leader to side with us. He’s dumb as a doornail, an inbred invalid that shouldn’t be allowed to rule, but I hope to use that to our advantage. All you have to do is get that bomb back. Do you know where the Russian spy is going next?” Desmond asked.

Roman nodded frantically, pulling the card he found out of his pocket and slamming it down on Desmond’s desk.

Desmond smiled in approval. “Good,” he whipped out an antidote to the poison. “Now repeat what I just said back to me.”

“Geneva conference, important, invalid prince, get bomb, I’m gonna pass out!” Roman said, using what little air was left in his lungs to get all of that out.

Desmond tossed him the antidote which Roman promptly took. Roman coughed as air came rushing back into his lungs.

“Look, I know I’ve been a massive sonofabitch lately, but there’s a lot going on right now and I’m worried about you. I know I’ve been really hard on you, but that’s because you’re really good at your job and I can’t afford to lose you. You’re like a son to me, admittedly a total deadbeat son who needs to get his shit together, but my point still stands. You need to keep your eyes on the prize and save the world, think you can do that for me?” Desmond asked, quirking an eyebrow at Roman.

Roman nodded, “I’ll do my best.”

“Good, let’s hope your best is good enough. Now don’t screw up and die on me. I’ll have to kill you myself if you do that,” Desmond said, throwing a small smile Roman’s way.

Roman gave Desmond a salute and went to leave the room.

“Oh, and Roman?” Desmond said. Roman turned around only for Desmond to shoot him.

Desmond nodded in approval. “Bulletproof vest, good, you’re learning. Dismissed!”

Roman was thrown into another coughing fit. How on earth did he get stuck with Desmond Houston as a boss? It didn’t matter, he had to go see Patton before heading out to Monte Carlo. He had work to do.


	5. Chapter 5

CIA Research Lab

Roman walked into the research lab ready for whatever it was Patton had to show him before he took off. Patton always had some sort of gadget that he had created for Roman to try. Roman hadn’t seen the man in four years, so it made sense that Patton would have created a new thing or two since then.

“Patton! Good to see you. Are these some welcome back drinks I see?” Roman said.

“If you consider cutting edge stem cell research to be an alcoholic beverage, sure, it’s a welcome back drink,” Patton replied. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to put up with Roman’s shenanigans again, but he had to admit it was nice to see the agent back in action after what had happened four years ago.

Roman laughed. “I do not. It would need some tonic and lemon zest for it to be good.”

Patton gave him a fake smile. “Good. Don’t drink it. Anyway, good to have you back, Mega! We all missed you here in the lab. I heard you got into some trouble on your first day back?”

“As much as I hate to admit it, Patton, I’m a little rusty. But fear not, I still know what I’m doing, and I will continue to save the world as I always do. Now, I hear there are some new gadgets for me to try out? Perhaps some black rocket shoes?” Roman asked, looking extremely hopeful.

“You know, there’s more to life than rocket shoes, Mega. Besides, we’ve made some pretty major technological advances since you’ve been gone,” Patton replied.

“What could be cooler than rocket shoes? You can fly. Flying is awesome,” Roman said.

“Yeah? Well I want you to picture this: the world’s first electronic information gathering and archival system! It would take all the guess work out of espionage and it would be that much safer because you’d be collecting information from the safety of your own desk. The future is electronic, Roman,” Patton explained, his face lighting up as he talked about it.

Roman looked skeptical. “That sounds really boring. Half the fun of being a spy is that you get to put your life in danger and use cool tools.”

“Sure, whatever you say. What are you doing?!” Patton exclaimed, looking very alarmed at what Roman was doing with the hard drive laying on the desk. 

“Is this a bomb? It looks like a bomb,” Roman replied, continuing to push buttons on the hard drive.

“It’s a hard drive, you doofus! Now, if I could have your attention for more than two seconds, I’ll explain how everything works to you,” Patton said, ready to go into lecture mode. 

“So first, we have a classic laser watch that works if you flick your wrist like this.” Patton flicked his wrist in demonstration, almost “accidentally” hitting Roman in the process.

“Now we have an acid pen which works by pressing this button, some shoes that release a knife by clicking your heels together, and a fireproof tuxedo. Have I lost you yet?” Patton asked.

Roman looked up from where he was rummaging through his bag. “Uh, yeah. We got acid knives and fire, right?”

“No, but we’ll pretend you got that and move on. Next, we have some gum that when chewed turns into an explosive, a pair of glasses that can talk pictures, and a flask for holding liquor. You still like your booze for your trips, I presume?” Patton asked, his face the picture of false innocence.

“I’m trying to get off of it and you know that,” Roman replied shortly.

“I know, honey, I just like messing with you. Now, we have a ring that releases poison darts and a hearing aid that functions as a lie detector,” Patton said as he slipped the hearing aid onto Roman.

“Mega, have you been paying attention?” Patton asked innocently.

“Of course I have—ow!” Roman exclaimed. 

Patton smirked. “Good to know it works. Now that we’ve covered all that, what would you like to bring along this time?”

“That cane looks cool,” Roman said.

“Wouldn’t you know it but it’s a gun!” Patton replied.

“The umbrella?” Roman asked.

“Another gun.”

“What about the candlestick?”

“A gun.”

“Coffee cup?”

“Gun!”

“Apple?”

“Gun!”

“Paperclip?”

“Gun!”

“Oh, I know this! That razor and shaving cream is a gun,” Roman said, looking proud of himself.

“Actually, that’s for shaving that god-awful beard. You look homeless, sweetheart,” Patton replied.

Roman made an offended noise. “I’ll have you know this is a great beard! I have put a lot of time and effort into it and I think it has turned out magnificently.”

“Yeah, no. That’s being shaved off right now,” Patton said as two of his lab assistants started to cut and shave Roman’s beard.

Roman pouted. He had worked hard on his beard, he couldn’t believe that Patton wanted to undo years of work. It didn’t matter he supposed. He could always grow it back.

Patton brought over the duffel bag that Roman likes to bring with him on all his missions.

“This should have everything you need in it: poison darts, zipline belt, cloaking underwear. I even made sure to cut all the crusts off your peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

“Thanks, Patton. I don’t know what I would do without you, you’re helping me to feel like my old self again.” Roman said.

Patton hummed. “Remember, if you need anything, I’ll be a few miles away from the hotel on the fishing boat.”

“Of course, of course. You know what to do if a stingray gets you, right?” Roman asked.

“Yes. I just need to have someone piss on me. You say this every time,” Patton responded, very unamused.

“Ah, well, I have to make sure you remember. I’ll see you later, Patton!” Roman said, already half-way out the door.

Patton shook his head. Roman Mega may be one of the best agents the CIA had ever seen, but he could be so thick at times. It was honestly a wonder that he had managed to stay alive for this long. Patton certainly thought that Logan Cavour was going to outlive Roman by a long shot. All was well that ended well he supposed. He just hoped that Roman would be able to keep himself out of trouble without Logan there to balance him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we have Patton! Since Patton hasn't been genderbent for the purposes of this story, he's not going to have a crush on Roman because the whole point of Barb's crush was to show how she could never have Curt because Curt was gay. There was some stereotyping involved with the characterization of that role and I just didn't feel the need to incorporate that, you know? That doesn't mean Patton is straight in this story, I just thought it made more sense for Patton to be constantly exasperated with the oblivious idiot he has to work with. It makes him less shallow and more realistic in my opinion. I suppose Patton having an unreciprocated crush still makes sense, but I didn't think about it like that so you are getting some exasperated science dad. I hope you guys liked the chapter and thank you so much for reading this!! I really appreciate all of the kudos and the nice things you've had to say about this fic and it's what drives me to keep writing this, so thanks again for reading!!


	6. Chapter 6

Richmond’s Casino—Monte Carlo

Roman felt more nervous than he should have. It wasn’t like he hadn’t gone on a mission like this before, it had just been so long. He was a completely different person four years ago, how was this Roman going to schmooze the lady? He had no clue, but Roman supposed he was going to find out. Roman just had to keep his eyes on the prize, and the first part of that involved finding his informant.

Roman ended up killing a waiter before figuring out his informant was the dealer at the blackjack table. He felt stupid about that because the informant was the same one from Budapest, so he should have recognized him. It didn’t matter anymore, he just had to make sure that he won so he impressed the woman.

He was consulting with the dealer to help make sure he won when the Russian spy came up to the blackjack table. “Is this seat taken?”

“Why yes, it is,” the informant replied. Roman sent him a murderous glare.

“It’s taken by you of course.”

The spies sat down. The woman was going to light her cigar and Roman went to offer her a lighter. They were promptly told that the casino was a non-smoking facility because the dealer had lung cancer. Roman was not fond of this informant.

“Could I interest you in a drink instead?” Roman asked.

“A drink would be lovely,” the spy replied.

Roman nodded and called for the waitress, snapping his fingers to show that he could make things happen.

The waitress was unimpressed. “I heard you. I’d appreciate if you weren’t rude tonight because my coworker was just killed. I have to cover his section as well as my own.”

Roman had the decency to look sheepish. “My apologies ma’am.”

“Accepted. Now, what can I get you folks?”

“I’ll have a vodka martini, bone dry,” the spy said.

“And I’ll have a white Russian,” Roman stated. He leaned toward the waitress. “Could you hold the vodka, please?” he whispered.

The waitress gave him a disbelieving look. “Sure. One vodka martini bone dry and one glass of cream coming right up!”

“Make sure you add a nice, cold Budweiser to that order!” a southern drawl said.

Roman looked up in surprise to see a man in a leather cowboy-like jacket and a cowboy hat walk up to their table. Roman wasn’t sure how his night could get any worse, this was not going to plan at all.

“Greetings, fair lady and gentleman. My name’s Richard Big, my friends call me Dick,” Richard said, offering a kiss on the back of the hand to the spy and a handshake to Roman. 

He leaned toward Roman. “It looked like you could use a wingman. Don’t worry, I got you.”

Roman could not believe this guy. What about his act indicated that he needed a wingman? Roman must not be doing as well as he thought if some stranger got that impression. 

“So, what brings you folks to a fine establishment such as this?” Richard asked.

“The usual lure of the casino. After all, who couldn’t resist a place such as this?” Roman responded.

“Ain’t that the truth. And the lady?” 

The spy’s reply was interrupted by the arrival of their drinks. 

“It doesn’t matter why I’m here, just that I am. Why don’t we propose a toast? To friendship, perhaps?” the spy asked.

Roman immediately agreed and began to say something in Russian to impress the spy, but Richard cut him off.

“What’s this commie bullshit? No, no, I got something all American for you folks tonight.”

Richard stood up. “Here’s to honor. Hitting on her, getting on her, staying on her, and if you can’t cum in her, cum on her. God bless America, amen.”

Roman and the spy shared a dumbfounded look before taking a sip of their drinks. 

Richard settled himself down between Roman and the spy so they could begin playing blackjack. Roman wanted to be next to the spy so he could more easily talk to her, but he supposed nothing could go his way. To make matters worse, the informant, acting as the dealer, chose that moment to give Roman his gun. Seriously, did this man have no tact?

It was Richard’s turn to bet. He took a moment to think about it before deciding he should stay.

The spy was considering her cards carefully when Richard slid up next to her. 

“You know, if you’re having trouble betting, there’s no shame in having a man help you out.”

The spy gave Richard a fake smile. “I would, but I have faith in my ability to play this game well. I’m not sure the same could be said for you, mister, how you say? Needle dick.”

Richard recoiled from the spy like he’d been physically burned. He leaned towards Roman. “Apparently, the kitty has claws. I don’t think you’ll be getting anything from her, she’s probably gonna scratch you before she would do anything else.”

The spy gave Richard an unimpressed look before turning back to the dealer. “Hit. Hit. Hit. Hit. Stay. Twenty-one.”

The informant took the house’s turn and came up with two twos which meant that the spy had won the round. Roman tried to get Richard to leave, but he interpreted that as an offer to get the group another round of drinks, on Roman’s tab no less. Roman took the brief reprieve from Richard as a chance to talk to the spy.

“What are the chances that we’d run into each other in a place like this?” Roman said.

“You may believe in chance, but I certainly don’t,” the spy replied.

Roman wanted to know what she meant by that but of course Richard came back at that moment. 

“I must say, it’s good to see a Second Amendment loving American in a place like this. Strange that you’re so far from home. Why’s that?”

Roman ignored him in favor of placing a bet in roulette. When the ball landed on black instead of red, he lost his cool for the moment and went to threaten his informant. The informant was supposed to be helping him with impressing the spy so he could get information out of her, not make him look like a fool. One of the managers had to step in to break the two men up.

Roman stepped back to see Richard gaping at him.

“Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would see a respectable American gentleman behaving in such a way! But you’ve exposed yourself for who you really are, mister… I never got your name.”

“His name is Roman Mega,” the spy said.

“Well, Mr. Roman Mega, you need to learn to have respect for the people around you!”

Roman wanted to say something but Richard just kept on talking.

“I always thought that casinos were a place to make dreams come true and to make good friends while enjoying life’s greatest pleasures along the way. But you, sir, are not my friend! You are one of the worst people I have ever met! I can’t believe I tried to help you. This puts me in the unfortunate position of having to say goodnight to the lady and as for you, I hope you die a horrible death and burn in the pits of Lucifer’s hell. Goodnight!”

Roman didn’t know what just happened, all he knew was he had no good response for it. Instead he decided to address the spy.

“I feel like I should apologize, but I had no idea that was going to happen. That being said, do you think we should take our leave?” Roman asked.

“I believe it would be good to find somewhere more, how you say, private,” the spy replied. 

Roman was leading the spy to the elevator when he was stopped by a waiter.

“Sir, your bill this evening comes to 2500 Franks,” he said.

“How?” Roman replied.

“Those two Budweisers you ordered were 900 Franks a piece, sorry,” the waiter said, holding his hand out for the money. 

Roman sighed. “Can I write you a check?”

“Of course, money is money.”

Roman handed the waiter the check. The waiter immediately turned back around and said that it bounced. 

The spy stepped in front of Roman. “Charge it to my room. That is where we’re headed next.”

The spy took Roman by the elbow to the elevator and hit the button for the tenth floor. The doors slid closed.

“There are some things you should know. First, I am not working for the Russians. They do not know of my whereabouts and I suspect that if they did, they would kill me,” the spy said.

Roman gave her a surprised look. “You’re not? Who are you working for then?”

“I am what you could call an independent contractor. You could also call me Vera,” Vera replied.

“Vera,” Roman said, giving her a kiss on the hand. “It’s a pleasure to officially meet you.”

Vera looked at him. “Yes. You can tell your boss that the bomb is and will continue to be far from Russian hands. If you’d like, we can arrange a deal that would be good for both of us.”

“That may be hard to do since I work alone,” Roman responded.

“Oh, I forgot. This is your first mission without your partner. You need to prove yourself, no?” Vera asked.

Roman glared at her. “I’ve been on plenty of missions on my own, thank you very much.”

“Yes, but you two were extremely close. After all, there is a reason you retired for four years and grew that horrible face fungus of yours,” Vera said with a smirk.

“That was a beautiful beard that I miss very much,” Roman replied.

“Well, whether that is true or not is yet to be seen. Either way I’ll have nothing to yank the next time we get heated, and that won’t be nearly as fun,” Vera said.

“By heated, you mean fighting, right?” Roman asked.

Vera said nothing as she stepped out of the elevator. Roman followed her down the hallway.

“There’s one thing I didn’t mention to you. I’m sorry it had to come to this, I hope you can forgive me.”

“What do you mean? You haven’t done anything wrong,” Roman said.

“Yes, I have,” Vera replied as she opened the door to her hotel room.

“Hello, Mega.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have Virgil now! I was originally not going to gender bend Virgil even though the overwhelming response was to do so because I had a plan for Doing This, but I couldn't figure out how to make this scene work with Virgil being male. Just for clarification, Virgil's name is Vera in this fic. I took a look at some Russian/Slavic names that began with V and Vera fit well in my opinion.
> 
> I know that this chapter was a lot of word for word from the original show. It wasn't completely that way, but there were quite a few things I didn't change, such as the toast. The toast was too good to change. Richard is from the musical because again, he's too good not to put in there. I hope you enjoyed it!


	7. Chapter 7

A Room in Richmond’s Casino—Monte Carlo

 

Roman was brought into the hotel room at gunpoint by the Deadliest Man Alive. He sat Roman down in a chair and tied his hands and feet to it. When Deadliest Man left the room, Roman turned to Vera.

 

“What the hell is going on here?” Roman asked.

 

“He’s gone to get my employer. Dr. Remus von Nazi has been wanting to meet you,” Vera replied.

 

“Dr. Remus von Nazi?” Roman asked.

 

“Yes. He is the nephew of the former Nazi leader, Adolf Hitler. I’m sure you’re familiar with the man,” Vera explained.

 

“Who isn’t?” Roman replied.

 

He was going to say more, but the door opened, and a man dressed in a Nazi uniform walked in followed by Deadliest Man. Roman assumed the first man was Dr. von Nazi.

 

“Agent Roman Mega. It is truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” von Nazi said.

 

“Trust me, the pleasure is all yours,” Roman replied.

 

Von Nazi laughed. “A spy who is a comic to boot. Full of surprises, aren’t you, Mega?”

 

“You certainly don’t have any. You’re a crazy villain, just like your blasted uncle,” Roman stated.

 

“So, what if I am? At least I own what I’ve done and what I want to do, unlike you Americans,” von Nazi replied.

 

“How do you mean?” Roman asked.

 

“Germany is a country divided; forced apart, unable to have a military, and paying reparations. We would be a strong, beautiful empire if it weren’t for the mistreatment by the hands of the Americans and the Russians,” von Nazi explained.

 

Roman laughed. “That’s what you get for doing terrible things, severe punishment.”

 

“I think you’ll find that we were not as bad as you Americans make us out to be,” von Nazi said.

 

Roman was going to ask him what he meant by that when some piano music came in.

 

‘What the hell?’ Roman thought.

 

_“Ever since the second world war_

_I_ _t's like everyone's still so sore!_

_After what happened..._

_But don't judge a book just on its look,_

_The inside must be examined._  

_Sure, we've made some mistakes_

_From small ones to great_

_But did everyone have to get so mad?_

_Here's my verdict: no one's perfect_

_Perhaps the Nazis aren't so bad._ _”_

 

Roman felt very confused. Why was Dr. von Nazi singing? Who was he singing to? The three people in the room?

 

_“People say we got a bit lost_

_With the whole Holocaust_

_But the Nazis are not so bad!_

_They made such a fuss_

_But they don't know us_  

_The Nazis are not so bad._

_We love to laugh and smile,_

_We love to shout ‘Sieg Heil!’_

_But no one understands._

_We've got style, we've got grace,_

_We've got the master race!_

_Nazis are not so bad.”_

Roman turned to Vera. “Who the hell is he singing to?”

 

Vera gestured to the black wall in front of them. Roman could have sworn that the pitch-black wall hadn’t been there a minute ago. Now he was even more confused, and don’t even get him start on all the bullshit that von Nazi was spewing right now.

 

_“Nobody seemed to pout_

_When they ate our Sauerkraut_

_Still they turned around and tanked us._

_We did all we could do_

_To eliminate the Jew_

_But nobody ever thanked us!”_

‘Who would want to thank you for that?’ Roman thought.

 

 _“So we never got the glory_ _And you rewrote the story_ _And I feel it from my Wiener to my Schnitzel._ _Once you get to know us_ _We're not so atrocious - hey!_ _Nazis are not so evil._ _In fact, the Nazis are quite good._ _Henchmen!”_

 

Roman turned toward the door von Nazi had originally entered through and four blond haired, blue eyed people came through. He became a bit more uncomfortable when he remembered von Nazi’s earlier comment about “the master race.”  
  


_“I'm Gretel!”_ _  
_

 

_"I'm Hans!”_

 

_“I'm Heidi!”_

 

_“And I'm Bernhard von Brahms!”_

 

 _“The first car to drive upon_ _Was created by Nazis - the Autobahn!”_

 __  
  


_“It's unhealthy, all your choking_

_The Nazis are very anti-smoking!”_

 

_“The father of rockets was a Nazi, too!”_

 

 _“I changed the world, what did you do?”_ __  
  


_“Volkswagen and Hugo Boss,_

_Adidas and Puma and the Swastika_

_Nazis aren't so bad_

_We're not so bad_ _We're not so,“_

 

 _“What about genocide?”_ Roman asked, feeling as though it was really important to bring up that fact as well. After all, you can’t just excuse the mass murder of six million Jewish people.  
  


 

 _“Shut up!”_ von Nazi replied, pushing Roman’s chair back.

 

 _“When I was just a boy_ _I was filled with youth and joy._

 _In the mountains of Germany_ _I felt the Nazis fervor_

_All to be just like mein Führer_

_Spreading the peace and conformity_

_But now I'm all grown up_

_And it's all fucked up!_

_Hitler's gone and I'm oh so sad._ _Sieg H...heil...”_

 

 _“But Sir! Now it's in your hands_ _The Nazis have a second chance.”_

 

 _“Oh you guys! See, Mega? The Nazis are not so bad! Let's dance!”_  
  


And they did dance, much to Roman’s horror. Roman still didn’t understand who this was all for. Even though Vera offered the black wall as an explanation, the Nazis still seemed like they were performing for someone, and a black wall doesn’t qualify as an audience in Roman’s opinion. Clearly, these people were delusional.

 

 _“Okay, okay, okay, okay. Now when I say Nazi you say party. Nazi!”_

 

_“Party!”_

 

_“Nazi!”_

 

_“Party!”_

 

_“When I say Sieg you say Heil. Sieg!”_

 

_“Heil!”_

 

_“Sieg!”_

 

 _“Heil!”_  
  


_“Woah! This is a Nazi party, okay!_

_Now say it with me:_ _Nazis are not so bad, Nazis are not so bad.”_  
  


_“Nazis are not so bad_ _Nazis are not so bad, Nazis are not so bad.”_  
  


Roman looked at black wall in horror. All this time, there were voices responding from the wall, and they were agreeing with everything von Nazi was saying. This was extremely concerning and freaky to Roman, so he couldn’t help but shout, _“What the fuck is wrong with you people?!”_

It was a valid question.

 

 _“We've been victimized but_ _Hey! We're alright!”_

_The Nazis are not so bad_

_People say we're lame and call us names_

_But Nazis are not so bad._

_Nazis are not so bad_

_Nazis are not so bad_

_Nazis are not so bad_

_Nazis are not so_

_Nazis aren't so bad_

_We're not so bad, we're not so bad, we're not so bad!”  
_

 

 _“So, did I convince you or what? Sieg Heil!”_ von Nazi sang, finishing his weird little song with a salute.

 

Roman felt many things, but he definitely did not feel convinced by von Nazi’s argument. That is, if you could call it an argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original plan was to have Remy be von Nazi, but I wasn't completely in love with that idea. I had known from the beginning that I wanted "Not So Bad" to be in this fic, so when we were gifted with the Stinky Trash Man, I couldn't help but change my plans. Singing that song is something I feel like he'd do. Also, this is the only song from the musical that is going to be in here. Thanks again for reading and hopefully I won't take another month to post a chapter!!

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the lines are ripped straight from Spies Are Forever. If you're familiar with the play, you'll know what I mean. Again, I own nothing! All credit goes to the creators.
> 
> Also, I can't decide if I want to genderbend Virgil for this fic. Thoughts?


End file.
